


Another Path

by Hekate1308



Series: Tales of the Thursdays [9]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, The Thursdays adopt Morse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Fred Thursday had never considered himself the bookish sort, for the simple reason that he wasn’t.





	Another Path

**Author's Note:**

> I am brigding the gaps until the Pilot because it does look like this will turn into a retelling of canon. What can I say? Enjoy!

Fred Thursday had never considered himself the bookish sort, for the simple reason that he wasn’t. He liked to pick up a book now and then, but he was by no means what one would call a bookworm. He’d read to the kiddies, of course, who wouldn’t? Yet even then, he’d not imagined that their house would look like this one day.

“Sometimes I think we’ve spoiled them too much” he said, fishing _A Shropshire Lad_ from behind the sofa cushions.

“Oh, Dev has been looking for that” Win immediately said, “He only knew that it was somewhere in the house.”

Fred opened it and smiled at the dedication. _Happy Fifteenth, Mother and Dad._ He couldn’t help but smile.  

“And we both know” Win continued, answering his statement, “That we couldn’t say no to him at all in the beginning after what he’d been thorough. And it wasn’t like he asked for unreasonable things.”

That, Fred had to admit, was true.

“Plus, I don’t want to stress him out even more. He’s nervous as it is.”

“I don’t know why. He’s going to pass with flying colours.”

Their eldest was about to graduate from college, and they couldn’t have been prouder.

“You know how he is. He wants desperately to make us proud.”

As if that was difficult. He did it every day.

Fred carefully placed the book on the table, where Dev would find it as soon as he came home.

He really did spend a bit too much time at the college library lately, if you asked Fred. He’d probably ask Joan and Sam to fetch him out of there if he didn’t come home soon.

Thankfully, Dev returned just in time for tea, with Win heaping biscuits on his plate.

He did look a bit haggard, Fred thought. “Everything alright, son?”

He nodded, although his eyes were a bit too wide and his hair was in disarray. “I have gone through the Criminal Justice Act of 1925 again and now I am –“

Fred registered, rather worried, that he seemed to have talked himself into a frantic state, but then Joan chimed in, “Miss Ford reprimanded Sally today – _again_. You should think she’d have learned by now not to talk loudly in class…”

Dev blinked at her, returned from wherever he had gone to, then relaxed as he listened to her ramblings.

Good. Fred and Win exchanged a glance. Joan and Sam had always been able to get Dev out of his own head if need be.

By the end of the meal, Dev was smiling and relaxed, bickering with his siblings; and when Win told him that they’d found his book his whole face lit up.

She’d been right, as usual; Fred simply didn’t have the heart to tell him to take better care of his things, especially when he darted into the living room to grab it and came back _cradling A Shropshire Lad_ as if it was his firstborn child. “I dozed off reading a few days ago in the living room.”

Fred caught Win’s eyes.

After tea, he dragged him off for a chat. “Dev –“

“I know what you’re about to say, Dad” he sighed.

“We just don’t want you to overdo it” he insisted. “There’s plenty of time to relax. Don’t make me put Sam and Joan on your case.”

Dev's face actually blanched. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I would, and you know it.”

He sighed. “I promise I’ll be more careful.”

“All I ask for, son.”

* * *

A few days later, he came home to Dev and Joan singing in the living room. That had happened more and more often, as of late.

He wondered if he should interrupt them, but then he heard Sam explain “You were a bit too high at this part, Joanie –“ with all the dignity of a director who had seen many a promising talent snuffed out by the wrong note at the right time and instead tip-toed to the kitchen, where Win welcomed him.

“How long?”

“Oh, they’ve been singing for an hour or so. Really, it’s the best thing for Dev right now. Just get him to think of something else.”

He had to agree with her there.

* * *

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..” the college don Fred was interrogating looked bored even as he quoted the lines. “I am sure –“

“While Milton may be an acceptable answer to a normal question in this college, I am afraid he won’t help me with the case” Fred interrupted him. He couldn’t help it.

The professor blinked. “Quite correct, Inspector. I didn’t take you for someone who liked poetry.”

He probably didn’t think that police men could read, but Fred ignored the implication. “My oldest son – he’s quite fond of it. As a matter of fact, he’s just finishing his studies over at Lonsdale.”

“Ah” the dean, who had insisted on being present during the interrogation, much to the don’s chagrin, said, “ _That_ Thursday.” He turned to his colleague. “I’ve heard of the young chap, sir – they say old Bell’s pretty keen on him but he seems set on going to the police. This explains it, of course” he nodded towards Fred.

He made a mental note to ask Dev about that business with his professor later. He hadn’t mentioned it to them, that much was certain.

The don, apparently, seemed to consider the information rather important, since he invited him to lunch, which he had most definitely not been about to do before.

* * *

“Dev, a word?” and he led him to the living room after dinner without giving him much time to protest.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, I just made some enquires at Baidley College today and – what is that I hear about you and Professor Bell?”

Dev shrugged. “He wants me as his assistant.”

“It’s a great opportunity” Fred told him. “And being a copper – you know how it is. Most days, it’s a bloody chore.”

“I want to do what you do” Dev said quietly. “It’s been my goal for years now, Dad.”

“I know that, it’s just…” he trailed off when Dev wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Oh.

He drew him into a hug. “It’s not that I’m not proud of you, Dev, alright? I will be no matter what you do. You’ll make a brilliant detective, I know it. But –“

“Then there is no _but_ , Dad” he said firmly, and if he hadn’t known that they had adopted him, Fred would have thought he’d inherited that expression from Win.

* * *

Dev graduated with honours, as they had known he would. Barely a month later, he was walking around Oxford in uniform.

Fred half-expected that he would end up going back to college within a week, but instead, Dev proved rather enthusiastic about it all. He would have vastly preferred to start as a detective, of course, but there was nothing to be done about that, so he resigned himself to his erstwhile job of telling tourists the time and policing traffic.

Until he didn’t, anymore.

“Inspector Thursday?”

He looked up from the file he’d been reading to find one of the DCs looking rather nervous. His stomach dropped. “What is it?”

“Sorry sir, but I am supposed to tell you sir, that is, sir –“

“Out with it, man!”

“I – I just heard that PC Thursday ran after a burglar, sir, and fell into the river. Sorry, sir.”

Dev would probably have had something to say about his constant use of the word sir, but he was already on his feet and grabbing his pipe. “Where is he?”

“Still at the scene of the crime, sir, but he’s fine –“

Fred didn’t listen. He’d already left his office.

* * *

When he arrived at the house and saw Dev with a towel around his shoulders, he breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened, son?”

He shrugged. “I tried to apprehend Mr. Sattler and fell into the river. I climbed out and got him, though.”

“That’s all well and good, but try and explain it to your mother.” They both winced. “Just make sure you don’t catch a cold.”

“I won’t, Dad.”

Miraculously, he was right.

They still had to tell Win though, and Fred was rather glad that the ensuing lecture was bestowed on their oldest and not on him.

* * *

Fred was surprised at how well Dev did with a firearm in training; but then, he was a little preoccupied with him having grown rather quiet in the last few days.

It was when he dragged him off to have a drink in the living room after dinner that he learned the truth.

“The Christmas after Mum died – my – my father took me out with a gun. To make a man out of me.”

Another reason Fred was bloody glad they’d gotten him out of there when they had, but that was hardly what he needed to hear right now. “Well, at least no one’s going to get the best out of you when guns are involved. Not that I want that to be the case, mind. You better be careful, or I’m telling your mother.”

That got a smile out of him, at least.

* * *

The next two years passed by in a blur. Dev, it soon turned out, had a knack for solving cases but not so much for ordinary policework; still he persevered.

“I just don’t understand” Fred told Win one day when Dev had been told off by Crisp yet again because he’d realized something and tried to help – of course it hadn’t mattered that he had been right – “He could have a cosy place at college now. Or really, do anything else he set his mind on. There weren’t many options for me back in the day, but – “

“Oh Fred” she said gently, unconsciously echoing Dev as she continued, “Haven’t you realize you are his hero? Of course he wants to do what you’re doing”.

“I never meant to be anyone’s hero.”

“Well, too late”. She kissed. “And for what it’s worth, I think our Dev makes a great police man.”

Crisp would probably have disagreed with her there, but Fred was not the husband to tell her that.

* * *

While Fred was careful not to let any suspicion of preferential treatment arise, some things had to give.

“How’s it going, son?” he asked upon seeing that Dev was one of the policemen securing their latest crime scene.

“Everything’s quiet, Dad.”

Lott muttered something under his breath Fred was rather sure he wouldn’t have liked to hear, but he didn’t bother to think about it. He could hardly be asked to ignore his son, could he?

* * *

If the hat stand rule hadn’t been a thing of the past by the time Dev entered the force, it would have been a thing of the past by the time Dev had been out on the streets of Oxford for a week.

He was frowning at his dinner when he quietly said, “Dad, I don’t meant to – but – DCS Crisp and DS Lott – I have my doubts.”

“So have I” he sighed, “But we have no proof, son.”

“Well, whatever you decide to do, you two be careful, do you hear?” Win said, even though Joan’s and Sam’s expressions told them they definitely wanted to hear more.

They probably would once they got Dev alone. That was usually the case.

* * *

Dev’s and Fred’s instinct had been right, he decided; there was definitely something going on with Crisp and Lott. Something that made Fred very uneasy indeed. Bad apples. There were some bad apples at their station.

And he couldn’t do anything about it. Worst case scenario, they would use his own son against him – thinking of Carter still have him a stab, he couldn’t even imagine what would happen if someone went after Dev.

He kept his eyes open for every opportunity, though.

“Sir?”

He turned to face a young PC. “Yes?”

“A man just reported his daughter missing. The name’s Mary Tremlett.”


End file.
